the crowd is waiting
by nericearren
Summary: During the GMG arc, Levy and Gajeel share a moment before he charges off to compete(and he's ever the knight).


It was the sound of feet-just a few pounds shy of a patter-that alerted Gajeel to her approach; next came her scent, drifting on a breeze. Honey and vanilla. He automatically closed his eyes, nearly smiling. "You know," he began, knowing she was close enough to hear. "Ya smell like cookies. Kinda makes me wanna eat'cha."

He was sure that she was blushing, and when he opened his eyes, he was right. He snorted.

"Sh-shut up!" Levy stammered out. "I just came to wish you luck, and-and-and you have to be so mean all the time!"

He ruffled her hair. "Not _all_ the time, shorty."

She glared up at him. "Most of the time. And don't think that I didn't notice your new fashion accessory."

"What?" He played dumb, and she whacked him on the stomach. It would have been the chest, but she would have had to stand on tiptoes. He really would have laughed then.

"Headscarves are my thing!" Levy protested.

"It ain't a scarf," Gajeel said indignantly. "It's a-a-manly bandanna. Like Mystogan wears."

"It's a scarf."

"It ain't!"

"It's a scarf."

"Stop sayin' that!"

"I know it's a scarf, because Evergreen has one just like it!" she snapped, and then froze, pink mouth forming a perfect O. "Did _Evergreen_ give that to you?" she asked, scandalized. "You know that she and Elfman are-"

"I've never even talked ta Evergreen! What t'hell's the matter with you?" Gajeel demanded.

Levy grabbed his shirt. He was too caught up in the action for a second-her slim fingers tugging at his clothing, her head pressed to his breastbone-to realize she was upset, and leaning on him for the comfort she knew he'd give her, albeit reluctantly.

"Dammit," he growled, rubbing her shoulder awkwardly. "You better not be cryin'. I'm goin' up ta fight in front of a million people in jus' a few seconds, and I sure as hell ain't going with tearstains on my shirt."

"I'm not crying," she mumbled. "I just . . ." She released his shirt and stepped back. "Never mind. Good luck, Gajeel."

"Oy," he objected, and she turned her face up to him. He swallowed, wishing she wasn't so direct in her gaze, but bent down anyway so that their faces were level. "If ya wanna wish me luck, do it proper," he grunted.

She looked confused. Somewhat self-consciously, he tapped his cheek, turning it towards her pointedly.

"Oh." Levy flushed. It was so damn cute, he thought he might not wait for her to kiss him; he might just decide to skip the battle and kidnap her and never, ever, ever give her back. But the pull of the fight was greater.

She pressed her lips to his cheek, and he abruptly changed his mind. What battle? What games?

His hands were on her waist when she pulled away from him. "Gajeel," she objected as he dragged her towards him, pulling her up until she was standing on his feet. He leaned back against the wall, finding it easier to curl his body into hers that way.

"I'm suddenly feelin' real unlucky, shorty," he muttered. "I think I might need a coupla more of those."

Levy looked torn between giggling and being horrified. "Gajeel . . ." She tried to keep distance between them, but between him and gravity, it was a losing battle. She wrapped her arms around his torso, tilting her head up and resting her chin on his sternum. "You've always done just fine," she soothed. "No need to get worried now."

"Hate it when you're reasonable," he grunted, and ducked his face to hers. "One more?"

"Nope." Levy shook her head, and he groaned. "You're killin' me, here!"

She reached up, brushing her thumbs over his lips, which just made things worse. "Maybe I'll reconsider," she said, and he leaned in for a third time, only to be stopped by her palm covering his mouth. Levy gave an impish smile and kissed the back of her own hand. "After you win the match," she added, and broke out of his hold, skipping to the ground and looking nowhere near as put out as he was sure he looked.

"See you later!" she chuckled, waving and dashing away.

Gajeel slouched against the wall. That damn girl . . .

_a/n-. . . everything I write for Fairy Tail is crap. Don't even deny it._


End file.
